Highland Vengeance Page 10

  I inhaled then exhaled slowly. So, Macbeth had enjoyed his share of women. It was no matter, of course. Many young men were prone to indulging. Gillacoemgain had not been of that mind. Nor was Banquo, from what I could tell. But it didn’t matter. I looked down at my hands in my lap and smirked. With all his practice, one would think he’d be a bit more polished in the bedchamber. Perhaps it hadn’t occurred to him that the exchange was usually two-sided. Given he was an heir to the throne, no doubt court ladies were very eager to please him any way he liked.

  “My lady,” one of the serving girls said, pausing to pour me a drink.

  Against my better judgment, I picked up the tankard and drank. The sooner I stopped thinking about it, the better all of this would go.

  After that, Merna deftly shifted the conversation to Thorfinn’s ships. Soon, Banquo, Macbeth, and Thorfinn were lost to the conversation. I scanned the room. The men of Caithness and the Orkneys filled the place. The dress of some of the men there told me they’d come abroad from Norway and other northern kingdoms.

  King Malcolm had a good reason to be worried. Thorfinn had men and alliances that exceeded Malcolm’s grasp. It was this force Gillacoemgain had feared. Now I could see why. But Thorfinn was not what I expected. He was a merry and honest man. I liked his frank nature, even if the raw truth was not always easy to hear.

  In truth, Macbeth had done very well for himself by aligning with Lord Thorfinn. Together, the two of them held sway over all of the north of Scotland and the isles. This was a mighty force. If King Malcolm could not broker peace, he would have a massive enemy at his backdoor very soon.

  But then I remembered the Morrigu’s words. There would not be peace. Once more, war was coming.

  Regardless, the night passed cheerfully. Thorfinn was perpetually smiling, and I found that I liked him very much. His hall was a happy place. The wild drumming and pipe players had us all dancing. Switching dancing partners from Macbeth to Banquo to Thorfinn, my feet were exhausted by the end of the night. As the evening waned on, the revelers either fell asleep near the fire or returned to their lodgings. At some point, I realized I could barely understand Macbeth’s slurred words, and his head bobbed drunkenly. I had never seen him in such a state before.

  “I think my lord needs to find his bed,” I told Macbeth whose eyes fluttered drowsily. He might be drunk, but he was also happy, which was a good change of pace.

  “Yes. Gruoch. You’re right,” he said then tried to stand but swayed and sat back down.

  “Good night, my lord,” I told Thorfinn.

  “Lady Macbeth,” he said, raising his tankard.

  I chuckled. It was a miracle Thorfinn was still upright. His blood much have been half ale.

  “Merna and I shall go now as well,” Banquo said, taking Merna’s hand.

  I had kept an eye on Banquo that night, watching his practiced hands and eyes. Druid-taught, he melded into the cheer without drinking too much or forgetting himself. Long ago, druids were the chief advisers to kings. They needed to keep their wits about them at all times. It seems this was a skill Balor had instilled in his student.

  Macbeth, on the other hand, had grown up at Malcolm’s court, and he was dead drunk. “Come along, my lord,” I said, practically lifting Macbeth.

  Macbeth stumbled to his feet. “Brother,” he told Thorfinn. Then leaning heavily on me, we exited the hall.

  Banquo chuckled. “You’re swimming home, Macbeth.”

  “No, you are,” Macbeth retorted stupidly, which made us all laugh.

  We walked to our longhouse where Merna and Banquo collected Fleance and their maid. When Banquo’s man who’d been standing guard saw us approach, he nodded to his lord then turned and left.

  “Morag, this is Lady Macbeth,” Merna said, introducing me to the woman. She was an older woman about Madelaine’s age with silver in her dark hair and lines on her brow. She dropped me a tired curtsey.

  “My lady,” she said. “A fine boy you have, my lady. Sweet-tempered and easy to soothe.”

  “You almost sound jealous,” Merna exclaimed good-naturedly.

  “I am! Fleance is a wee devil. In three hours’ time, he nearly fell into the sea twice, the fireplace three times, upset the Macbeth’s bed and food stores, and almost had the wardrobe pulled down on himself.”

  Banquo took the sleeping child from Morag’s arms. “Morag, you’d be far too bored with a babe like Lulach.”

  “Would I? I spent the entire night wondering if Lady Macbeth would have me! My old bones… Ute is young. Perhaps a trade?”

  “We could never give you up, Morag,” Banquo exclaimed.

  The woman shook her head sadly. “So I was afraid you’d say, my lord.”

  We all chuckled.

  “Goodnight, Gruoch,” Merna said, kissing me on both my cheeks. “Sleep well.”

  “And you.”

  Banquo, hands full of his wee devil, inclined his head to me then they headed back to their own house.

  I smiled at Morag who winked at me.

  Ute, who had stepped outside, waited for me. “Lulach is sleeping, my lady,” she said.

  “Thank you, Ute. Come, my lord,” I said, leading Macbeth to the bed. He swerved as he walked. “Watch your step here,” I said, guiding him across the threshold.

  Ute chuckled at the sight.

  Moving carefully, I helped Macbeth to bed then pulled off his boots.

  “Prettiest wife in the hall,” he said, reaching for me.

  I shook my head then sat on the side of the bed beside him.

  He reached out and touched the amulet I wore. “Where’d ya get this?” he asked, his voice slurring.

  “My father,” I lied.

  “So, did he tumble you?”

  “What?”

  “Banquo. Like Thorfinn said, has he had you?”

  My stomach knotted. “No,” I lied again, feeling guilty for it.

  “I see the way he looks at you.”

  “There is nothing to see.”

  Macbeth laughed. “You’re a liar, Gruoch. I see the way you look at him too. Did you look at Gillacoemgain like that? God knows that’s not how you look at me. By Christ, I think I drank too much.”

  “Oh? You think?”

  Macbeth laughed, rolled over, and then fell asleep.

  I sat there a moment longer. I hated lying, and in the span of a single moment, I’d lied twice. I dwelled for a moment on Macbeth’s words. How did I look at Banquo? Was my love so obvious? And Gillacoemgain? A light smile crossed my face. Yes, I had looked at him with love. I glanced down at Macbeth and sighed. He was drunk, but he was also right. I didn’t look at him like I’d looked at Gillacoemgain or Banquo. It’s just…nothing was working. I wanted to love Macbeth. I really did. He was just so damned difficult to deal with.

  A cry pulled my attention away. Lulach.

  Sighing once more, I rose and joined Ute by the fire.

  “There now, wee boy,” I said, lifting the child from his bed. “Ute, why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be awake for a while.”

  “Thank you, my lady. And thank you for sending someone. Morag was good company. And it was kind of Lord Banquo to have a man keep watch.”

  I nodded.

  “Goodnight, my lady.”

  “Goodnight, Ute.”

  I sat there in the silence, listening to the crackling of the fire, and staring down at my sleepy boy. Lulach got his fill then slept. I stayed with him, holding him a bit more, staring down at him. He smiled in his sleep, his left cheek dimpling. I kissed the baby on his forehead then lay him back down in the wooden cradle near Ute. I still didn’t like having him so far from me.

  I turned and headed back to the other end of the house when I heard a distinctive scratch on the door. I unbolted it only to find a shivering dog on the other side.

  “Well, do they know you’re the alpha yet?” I asked Thora.

  Thora wagged her tail then trotted inside, heading directly toward the hearth where she flopped d
own.

  Bolting the door once more, I headed toward our partition. There, I found Macbeth snoring loudly and reeking of ale.

  Sighing, I pulled off my boots and slipped into bed beside him, pulling the heavy furs over me. For the first time in our marriage, my husband slept by my side, passed out cold from drink.

  Chapter 17

  A few weeks later, Banquo and I rode out to see what he called “the treasure of Caithness.” We’d left early that morning. Having had success getting Lulach to eat a few bites of porridge in the past weeks, we would be able to make the trip and back before my wee lad got too fussy. Ute, Morag, and Fleance would, no doubt, keep Lulach distracted. It warmed my heart to see Fleance hopping around my own son, making Lulach laugh and smile.

  Things had improved with Macbeth—a little. He was much more relaxed in Thorfinn’s company than I’d ever seen him at Inverness. He’d taken to drink, but it cheered his mood significantly but also unevenly. He came to my bed each night. Thus far, however, only for sleep, which I found peculiar. I couldn’t tell if the man wanted me or not. Did he love me or not? The whole thing was so confusing, at times I felt like I was going mad. The trip into the countryside with Banquo was a much-needed respite from the confusion.

  “So, you won’t tell me where we’re going?” I asked as we rode toward a glen.

  “No,” he answered with a smile.

  “Is it somewhere…old?”

  “No.”

  “Somewhere picturesque?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Did you ever bring Macbeth here?”

  Banquo laughed. “No.”

  “Or Merna?”

  “No.”

  “I hate it when you’re mysterious.”

  “Liar,” Banquo said, playfully pinching my cheek.

  We passed Loch Calder and followed one of the tributaries upstream where we eventually met with a farm.

  Banquo grinned at me but said nothing. He guided his horse toward the house.

  Outside the small roundhouse, I spotted a red-haired child playing in the vegetable garden. Upon spying us, the child raced toward the house. “Mama, mama, riders!”

  The child’s alarm brought a striking blonde-haired woman to the door. She wiped her hands on her apron as she crossed the lawn to meet us.

  Banquo grinned happily.

  Once she was in plain sight, I recognized her. “Gwendelofar?”

  “Cerridwen? Is that you?”

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. How long had it been since she’d left Epona’s care after her handfasting to Sigurd?

  Dismounting, I rushed across the grass and hugged her tightly. Well, not too tightly when I realized she was with child. I leaned back and looked at her.

  “Sister, why are you here? Has something happened?” she asked.

  “Our sister is Lady Macbeth,” Banquo explained. “We are at court with Lord Thorfinn.”

  Gwendelofar gasped. “Lady Macbeth. I did hear Lord Macbeth and his wife had come. I always knew you were someone of importance, you and your aunt. Oh, how wonderful to see you!”

  The sound of jingling rigging caught all of our attention as a team of shaggy oxen were driven around the side of the house. An equally shaggy man with red hair followed behind them. Sigurd.

  The hulking Northman left his yoke and joined his wife.

  “Cerridwen? And Banquo,” he said, clapping Banquo’s shoulder. “Now, this is a surprise.”

  “Cerridwen is Lady Macbeth,” Gwendelofar explained.

  “Oh, aye? M’lady,” he said, dropping me a courtly bow, chuckling all the while.

  “Oh, stop,” I said with a laugh, reaching out to embrace him.

  “Come inside. Let’s see where Neda has gone to hide. Neda?” Gwendelofar called. She led us into her little house. Scanning all around, she pointed to a trunk in the corner. A tuft of red hair and the hem of a dress was plainly visible. “I’m sorry, Lady Macbeth. I guess my daughter doesn’t want to meet the Lady of Moray.”

  “Mama!” the child exclaimed angrily, stepping out from behind the trunk. She glared at her mother with such fury that we all laughed.

  I approached the child, bending down to greet her. “Hello, Neda.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, my lady,” she said then curtsied.

  What a beautiful thing she was. Striking red hair, blue eyes, and porcelain skin, she looked every bit like her mother with a mop of her father’s hair.

  “Such a beauty,” I said, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. “And how old are you now, Neda?”

  “Seven,” she told me.

  Seven. My stay in Ynes Verleath had seen the world move on without me.

  “She’s beautiful,” I told Gwendelofar and Sigurd.

  They smiled at me.

  “And another on the way?”

  Gwendelofar nodded. “Coming July or August, I think.”

  “I’ll still be here in Thurso, I believe. Send word when you’re close to your lying in.”

  Gwendelofar smiled brightly. “That will be a comfort. And you? Do you have any children?”

  “I have a son. Lulach.”

  “You’ll need to bring him next time. Now, sit down and let us bring you something to drink.”

  Banquo and I spent the morning there, talking about Gwendelofar and Sigurd’s life since they’d left the service of the gods. They lived simply but were very content. And from what I could see, they were still very much in love. Sigurd cut wood and sold it to the shipbuilders. Gwendelofar had made a reputation as a local healer. Their lives seemed very content.

  The morning stretched on, and eventually, Banquo and I had to take our leave.

  “I made this for my little one. Will it fit your boy?” Gwendelofar asked, handing me a beautifully embroidered shirt. The neckline was decorated with leaves and acorns.

  “It’s so beautiful. I can’t accept this,” I said.

  Gwendelofar laughed. “Cerridwen, if it were not for you, I wouldn’t have this happy life. Please.”

  I took the gift, kissed her on the cheek, then pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you. And take care. If you need anything, I will be with Jarl Thorfinn. Please, just send word.”

  Gwendelofar leaned back and looked at me. “And if you need anything, you know where to find us.”

  I smiled at her then hugged her again. Once more, I turned my attention to little Neda, the merry-begot babe whose parents I’d encouraged to marry. How glad it made me to see their family so happy. “What can I bring you when I come next?”

  “Cerridwen—” Gwendelofar began, but I hushed her with the wave of a hand.

  “My lady, I have no right to ask you for a gift.”

  “Now, you must understand, Lord Banquo brought me here as a surprise. If he had told me where we were going, I would have brought something. It is his fault I don’t have something special for you,” I said, shooting Banquo a playful scolding glance. “Tell me what you’d like, lass.”

  Neda looked up at her mother, who nodded in assent.

  “My lady, if it’s not too much to ask, would you bring me a harp?”

  Be still my heart. “I will do my very best to get one for you.”

  “She’s got a lovely voice,” Sigurd said. “Blessed by the gods.”

  “Then a harp you shall have.”

  I kissed the child on the forehead then mounted my horse. Banquo gave his farewells, and soon we were ready to go. We waved goodbye then headed back to Thurso.

  We rode in silence for a long time.

  Too long.

  I could tell Banquo’s mind was busy.

  “Not going to tell me what you’re thinking?” I asked.

  He sighed. “We had the same training, worship the same gods, but look how content they are whereas we must play Thane and Lady.”

  “We had no say in the matter.”

  Banquo reached out to take my hand. “Cerridwen,” he whispered.

  In truth, the same thoughts had plagued me. “Ba
nquo, I—”

  “How many children do you think we would have had by now?”

  I stared at him. We were alone. For the first time in so long, we were alone. It would not hurt to play pretend here…at least, it would not hurt anyone other than ourselves. “Seven years… Let’s say four or five.”

  “And would we be farmers?”

  “No. We’d have our own place, just like Epona, and we would raise and train people in the ways of our ancestors, men and women alike, side by side.”

  “And we would be happy?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Every day? Never quarreling?”

  “Never.”

  Banquo pulled on his reins, stopping his horse. Mine stopped as well. He reached out and touched my cheek. “And we would make love?”

  “Every night.”

  He pulled off my glove then stroked the scar on my palm. He pressed his hand to mine.

  I shivered.

  “Cerridwen,” he whispered.

  It was just him and me. We’d stopped in the middle of a thick forest. Only the eyes of the gods were on us.

  “You are my wife,” he whispered.

  “I was your wife. Merna is your wife now.”

  “You will always be my wife. Feel the spirit world around us. Don’t you feel the Lord of the Wild Hunt? The Great Lady? We are their children, and under their watch, we are man and wife.”

  “Banquo,” I whispered. His words spoke to my heart.

  Banquo exhaled a shuddering breath. “There are standing stones on the other side of that rise, a sacred space. Do you have time to see them, just for a moment?”

  I looked around me. The forest floor was covered in thick green moss. Shafts of golden sunlight slanted through the green canopy overhead. Motes made the air sparkle. Trained in Ynes Verleath, the goddesses of death and darkness called me. I was not a druid and knew only what Epona had taught me of the Stag God and the Great Mother, but I did feel the woodsy energy around me. It called to me.

  I nodded.

  We dismounted and led the horses through a thicket of tall ferns to a small, secluded valley. Leaving the horses to graze, we walked into the green space. At its heart was a small ring of stones. Golden sunlight shimmered on them, illuminating the swirling symbols carved thereon. A ring of oaks surrounded the stone, their tall branches reaching toward the sky. It was a beautiful place. Magic filled the air.